


164 - Music Books, The Killers, & Shitty Musicians

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 08:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17403446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “you meet Van at The Streets concert and a few days later at The Killers and he’s shocked at your music taste because it’s his favourite aswell and he becomes your gig partner and you eventually end up dating etc.” and “a fic about meeting Van in a record shop? The reader and Van get along really well and have very similar taste in music & maybe the reader asks Van out even though she’s quite shy?”





	164 - Music Books, The Killers, & Shitty Musicians

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve done two ‘meet at a concert’ fics before (one was The Streets and the other was The Strokes), and I’ve done a record store meet. I’m gonna merge these two requests, take elements, and hopefully create something a bit different to the other fics. Enjoy!

On your knees in front of the books, you had already finished the first chapter. "This ain't a library, you know," someone said. You looked up and went to explain yourself to the bookstore employee. But, he wasn't an employee. His jeans were too ripped. His jacket was too cool. Hair too messy. Smirk too annoying. The guy dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged next to you. "What'cha got?"

You held up the book, Tranny by Laura Jane Grace. "Against Me! are one of my favourite bands," you said. 

"I hear that's really good,"

"It is so far. Are you looking for something?"

"Yeah. Mike Skinner's book. I've read it a thousand times, but I want to give it to a mate for his birthday," the guy said. You made a face he could not read. "What?"

"Only one copy in the store. I asked," you said, handing it over. He held it.

"Were you gonna get it?"

"Yeah, but I can get it next time. No rush," you said with a shrug.

"You sure? That's really kind,"

"Yeah. No worries."

He had no more reason to be there. He looked at the bookshelf, then back at you. "Can I help you pick a replacement?"

You tried to not smile at his smile alone, and all you could do to stop yourself was bite your bottom lip. He noticed, smirked, and you realised lip biting was far worse than smiling politely. You nodded and with his head on a tilt, he began to read book spines. He was making a short list in a pile next to him, out of your line of sight.

"Am I… meant to help?" you ask.

"No. Go back to reading," he replied not looking away. After a couple of minutes, he shifted on the spot, turning to face you. "Alright, here's my picks: Scar Tissue. Hear it's a page turner. Chili Peppers are good, too. Bit of a Blur by Alex James. Clever title. Get in the Van by Henry Rollins, because my name is Van and that's funny. Also, if you like punk then you might like it? Many Years From Now by McCartney. Don't think he fully wrote it himself, and apparently he just bitches about credits a lot, but The Beatles, you know? Just the greatest. Patti Smith. Bob Dylan. Nile Rodgers. Got a friend that read this, I think. Said it was good," he finished. He'd held up all the books as he talked about them, then gently returned them to the pile.

"Have you read them all?"

He laughed. "No. Only book I've ever finished is Mike Skinner's,"

"The one I can't have,"

"I said you could! I'll get my mate one of these," he said, motioning to the pile. You shook your head.

"No, no. I want him to have that one if that's what you want to get him. I'll take the Patti Smith and Henry Rollins, please," you replied. He handed them to you and put the others back on the shelf, out of place.

"Do you think Brenden Flowers will write a book?"

"I hope not," you replied, reading the back of the novels you'd newly acquired.

"Do you think I should put these back properly? You don't like The Killers?"

"Yes. And yes. Just don't like him much,"

"He's such a good songwriter though," the guy argued. What had he called himself? Van? 

"Yeah. Doesn't mean I have to like him. Like Kanye. Or Noel and Liam,"

"Or Jerry Lee Lewis and Tommy Lee,"

"Good music by bad people," you said with a shrug. Van laughed. 

"That would be a good name for a book about music,"

"Copyright, Y/N," you said quickly.

"Y/N," he repeated. You nodded. "Regardless of him as a person, are you going to go see them on Friday when they play? The Killers, I mean,"

"Yeah. I am,"

"Maybe I'll see you there then?" he asked, and it was all hope but no invitation or request.

"Maybe," you replied with a grin.

"Okay. Well, I'm gonna go get this,"

"Kay. I'm gonna sit in this not-library a little longer. Thanks for the book recs,"

"Anytime, Y/N," Van said. He stood and walked away. You didn't look up from chapter two to see him look over his shoulder at you.

…

You were in the line with Xiu. Not bothering to queue for hours, you were near the end, only a few people behind you. Most of them were huddled in circles hiding joints or flasks.

"Y/N!" a voice, Van's distinctive voice, called. You turned and watched him approach with a friend.

"Hey," you said, letting yourself smile instead of biting your lip.

"Easier to find than I thought you'd be," he said.

"Why were you going to look for her?" Xiu asked, amused.

"Um!" You spoke to stop him from needing to answer. "Van, this is Xiu. Xiu, Van. Met him at the bookstore the other day," you said to her with a warning look. She knew exactly who he was and how his stupid messy hair and book short list made you feel.

"Nice to meet ya. This me mate Larry. It's his birthday!" Van said happily.

"Hi," you said to him. "Did you like the present?"

"He's been trying to make me read that fuckin' book for years," Larry replied.

"So ungrateful," Van said and made a tsk-tsk sound.

Nobody in line behind you seemed to care about Van and Larry jumping the queue. There was only a minute of small talk before the topic of music surfaced.

"Larry thought of another questionable person that makes good music," Van said. He'd obviously recounted your entire meeting to his friend too. "Bono,"

"Um?" you said, with a confused look on your face. "U2 are overrated. Sunday Bloody Sunday is good, but other than that, very average,"

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?" Larry said. You laughed.

"Yeah, Y/N, I'm with him. I don't know if we can be friends," Xiu said. "Is this a thing? Questionable people that make music?"

"Bad people that make good music. It's the name of Y/N's upcoming book," Van said.

"Coming to a store near you this summer," you added, smirking at Van. Did this count as an inside joke?

"Easy. That singer from Lostprophets. He got done for child pornography and shit," Xiu said.

"Wow. Dark, Xiu," Larry said with a laugh.

The subject changed and the line moved. It was never said out loud that Van and Larry would stay with you guys but it happened. The followed you through the crowd to the spot you were happy at. The show started and you danced with Xiu. Larry and Van sung to each other from behind you; their happy voices were only barely audible on top of the booming speakers around the stadium. Van's hands landed on your shoulders and he leant in to whisper in your ear. It was about halfway through the show.

"Come on, we'll get you closer, put you on our shoulders."

Van took your hand and pulled you through the crowd. Larry was behind you, holding Xiu. Close enough to see Brendan Flowers' sweat, the guys lifted you above the crowd and you sat holding hands with Xiu. Screaming out the words together, you felt alive. When you slid off Van's shoulders, he quickly moved you to be in front of him. His arms were around you, and when Xiu winked at you, you stayed on the spot.

After the show you sat in a booth of a diner with Van and Larry. After saying all you could about The Killers, about the show, you grinned to yourself.

"What?" Van asked, resting his chin on his arms that were crossed on the table.

"He's still a dick, though,"

"Eminem!" Larry shouted, as Without Me came on the radio.

"Literally most hip hop artists," Xiu said in reply. "So racist,"

"So sexist. And homophobic," you added nodding. "That's a good one though,"

"There's that guy that tried to kill his wife?" Van said.

"Oh, Phil Spector! He did kill her though. Good call," you said.

"No… Yeah, he's on the list, but not who I meant. Don't remember his name but he sang for As I Lay Dying, that metal band or whatever? Hired a hitman to kill his wife,"

"Wow… What the fuck is wrong with people," Larry mused with a frown. "This is a depressing game, guys."

You and Van smiled at each other. He held his hand out, one finger extended. Somehow you knew he wanted you to do the same. You pressed the pads of your index fingers together in a silent, tiny high-five. High-one?

"Can't you play good people that make bad music?" Xiu suggested with a bounce on the spot.

"Don't know bad music," Van said with a shrug.

"Don't know good people," you added, smirking at her. She rolled your eyes.

Out the front of diner you said goodbye to them with hugs and thanks for the shoulder thing. You walked away from Van and Larry, heading in opposite directions.

"Y/N. Is there any reason why you've not asked for his number?" Xiu asked.

"He's not asked for mine? Isn't that what boys do?" you replied, annoyed at your own conformity to gender roles.

"Well, as we've just established, apparently boys set hitmen on their wives and talk shit about people of colour, so maybe it's good he's not like other boys,"

"Not all men, Xiu," you joked. She laughed. But, she was right. You stopped walking and went to jog after Van. Turning, you saw you wouldn't have to go far. He was standing on the street corner smoking with Larry. When he saw you walking to him, he started to walk towards you too. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Wait! Before you say anything, can I? I just… I wanna do this. I never really make friends like this? Like in stores or whatever? Never just hang out with new people at concerts and feel comfortable around them? I don't know… I don't know why you're different but it's good. I like you and I want to hang out again." You said it all in one big breath and it sounded like one long word. Van grinned, not saying anything. Your brain screamed at you to fill the silence. "Um. If you want to. If you don't, that's cool. You might not like me… like… that… or whatever. Um. Sorry, I've made this weird. I'll g-" Van leant in and stopped you from saying 'go' with a kiss. You were too shocked to kiss back and when he pulled away he laughed.

"I like you too. Yes. We'll hang out," he said as he handed you his phone. Your hands were a little shaky but you began to create a new contact. "Also, I know I recommended the McCartney book, but he's probably not that great of a person either. But, if we're putting one of them on the list-"

"Lennon?" you guessed.

"Lennon," he agreed. You handed your phone back.

"This is a devastating game,"

"I know. We should stop. Oh! Frank Sinatra!"

"Frank Zappa!" you immediately replied, brain cued by Van's addition. "Okay. Let's stop. For now. I'm gonna… go,"

"Okay. Get home safe, yeah?"

You nodded and began to walk backwards. You waved to Larry, who waved back.

Twenty minutes after you got home your phone buzzed. A message from Van, home safe? You liked him a lot.

…

Van called a couple of days later. His friend's band were playing and he invited you to go. He promised they were good people that made "reasonably" good music. It started a trend of dates that revolved around live music. Sometimes they'd be local bands he wanted to check out, sometimes they were friends, sometimes he'd buy you tickets to stadium gigs. When he did that, Larry and Xiu would come too. All the time you spent with Van was good. It was fun and comfortable and despite your generally shy personality, he brought out the sass and fun in you. However, the dates were too casual to be official dates. Maybe you were friends hanging out.

"Y/N… He kissed you?" Xiu said.

"Once. Ages ago. Hasn't tried again. Maybe we're just friends,"

"Maybe he's waiting for you to kiss him. Take it in turns."

You moaned out loud and looked at yourself in the mirror. Van was due to pick you up in a couple of minutes. He'd messaged asking if you were free and you'd not bothered to ask which band you'd see. Your music tastes were almost perfectly aligned. By that point, he'd gained your trust on that one. A knock on the door, Xiu let Van in and sent him to your room. He walked through.

"Hey," you said, picking up your bag.

"Hey, love. You look dead cute," he said. "Might get cold, but. Got a jacket?"

You'd stopped taking jackets to the shows because you'd inevitably take it off when it got too hot in the crowd, which it always did. When you'd stand outside with Van while he smoked, he'd give you his jacket. It wasn't any colder that day but you nodded and pulled a denim jacket from your wardrobe. Van held his index finger out to you and you pressed yours against it. That had become your thing… In addition to your other things… like the bad people good music game… and the concert buddy dates…

You both said goodbye to Xiu as you left. In the car you asked Van who you were off to see.

"Would you be cut if we didn't see a band?"

"No? Why?"

"Just… Thought we could do something different," he answered. One hand on the steering wheel, his other was near his mouth. He went to chew his nails but you pulled the hand away and held it in yours. He gripped it tight.

"Why are you nervous?"

"Not,"

"Are too. You bite your nails when you're nervous. You told me that that time we met that band you like. Said to not let you do it. So, I'm not letting you," you said, holding your entwined hands up for emphasis. "And you are nervous,"

"Okay. I don't know. Just… I don't know," he replied in a lie. You rolled your eyes.

"Fine. Don't tell me. Where are we going?"

"I, uh, did not plan that far ahead. Are you hungry? We could do dinner? There's this place that does really good mac and cheese."

You laughed and nodded.

Over mac and cheese and range of other horribly deep fried food, you watched Van. He was still nervous and it was making you nervous. You thought to try to calm him with something he liked.

"Courtney Love," you suggested. He nodded.

"Yeah. Um. Madonna, then? Isn't she meant to be a bit of a dick,"

"So I hear. Azealia Banks. Now she is a horrible human,"

"I don't know who that is," Van said, biting down on a battered and fried pickle.

"She's got some really famous songs, that are like, bangers," you went to explain. Van started to laugh.

"Bangers?"

"Yeah… Like… good club songs. Don't laugh at me! Anyway. You can't help but dance to them, but she's just horrible,” 

"Okay. I'll trust you on that one. Um… Oh, Johnny Rotten. It's in the name," Van said.

"Sid Vicious then,"

"Wasn’t he alright, before the drugs? And before Nancy?" Van asked.

"Maybe. Can't really blame one person for another person's mistakes though. Not entirely at least. She'd be on the list if she made music," you replied.

"Yeah. Ummmm." His thinking face including his tongue sticking out and his eyes closed hard. You held back a giggle. "I got nothing,"

"Me either. A work in progress. I've got the first few chapters of the book," you said.

"Enough to send to your editor, at least," Van agreed with a smile. It had worked; he was calmer. He looked at you, then down into the bowl of coleslaw. "So, uh, we were going to see a band, but I kinda changed the plan last minute,"

"Okay," you replied, sliding the coleslaw away from him and closer to you.

"Yeah. I, uh, thought maybe the concert thing is just what we do? All we do? Just wanted to check that you still liked me separate to… that, or whatever. I don't know," he told you. You stopped eating and looked at him.

"I literally said that to Xiu before,"

"Said what?"

You smiled at him. "That I was worried that we were just friends that went to concerts together. 'Cause you haven't tried… Like, but… We aren't… I don't think,"

"I don't think either. I like you. And, we should do other things besides see bands," he said. The words were awkward; not at all premeditated. Whatever charming confidence he had in the bookstore and at The Killers had run out, and you had started to make him a little edgy. He liked you too much to keep his cool. You laughed and he shook his head. "I don't fuckin' know what's wrong with me, Y/N! Don't laugh!" You held your index finger up and he pressed back. "Are you done eating? Can we get out of here? I need a smoke."

You sat on the hood of his car as he smoked. You were still holding back laughter and he was trying to not grin like an idiot. When he was done, he stepped over to you and stood between your legs. One hand on each knee, he looked at you and shook his head again.

"You okay?" you teased.

"Fuck you, Y/N," he said back playfully. You snorted at him and bit your lip. His eyes flicked from yours, to your lips, and back up again. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he said.

"Okay. Thank you for the heads up," you replied. 

The beginning of the kiss was just you laughing into each other but then all the want you'd both kept quiet for all those dates started to surface. Your hands ran through his hair, and one settled on the back of his neck, the other he took to hold. His spare hand was on your back, arm around you, pulling you closer to him. The situation stopped being funny and started being hot. He broke away from your lips and started kissing your neck, and you melted into him, slowly slipping off the hood of the car to be standing in front of him. It let you press your body into his as hard as possible. Your hand let go of his so you could hold him in place. You nudged at him with your head, making him stop kissing your neck. Mouths reconnected, your heart was slamming against your chest. Apart, you kissed his neck, biting down softly. He muttered a breathless 'fuck' under his breath and you lost your mind.

"Do you wanna come back to mine? Maybe? If you want," he said in a whisper. You nodded and left a final kiss on his neck. Slowly, you stepped apart and looked at each other. You'd messed his hair up, and he'd twisted your skirt. You climbed into the car quickly, and while Van drove you both home, you held his hand between your legs. You both laughed when The Smiths came on over the radio.

At the same time, you both called it. "Morrissey!"


End file.
